


got your finger on the trigger (but your trigger finger's mine)

by eyes_to_the_sky



Series: DamiJon Week 2018 [5]
Category: Justice League - All Media Types, Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Damijon Week 2018, Dark Jon, Jondami Week 2018, M/M, Mentioned Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-18 17:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13686510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyes_to_the_sky/pseuds/eyes_to_the_sky
Summary: “Beloved,” he hears a murmur behind him and he turns with a wide smile as Damian drops silently from the rafters. He laughs, high and genuine, and he sees Damian flinch back at the sound.





	got your finger on the trigger (but your trigger finger's mine)

**Author's Note:**

> better late than never I guess :/
> 
>  
> 
> Day Five: Hero/Villain couple
> 
> I wanted to take this prompt in a different direction--most of the time you see it's Damian as the villain and Jon as the hero but I wanted to switch it around a little. Enjoy!
> 
> Title is from “COPYCAT” by Billie Eilish

The woman’s scream cuts off in a gurgle and blood sprays from her arteries over Jon’s hoodie, the symbol of hope an abomination on his chest. He lets go of her torn collar, and her corpse lands with a sickening thud on the dirtied floor of the warehouse. Around her, her husband and sons lie quietly in pools of their own blood, throats torn and bared to the cool air. Jon breathes in, and out again. 

“Beloved,” he hears a murmur behind him and he turns with a wide smile as Damian drops silently from the rafters. He laughs, high and genuine, and he sees Damian flinch back at the sound. 

Jon lets his arms hang casually at his sides as Damian approaches, sword sheathed but the fingers of his left hand brushing carefully over a concealed knife. Not that it would do any good, Jon knew, and so did Damian. He hadn’t come here for a fight.

It had been this way for four months now ( _four months, seventeen days, five hours thirty-two minutes and nineteen seconds, Damian knows_ )—Jon would surface, Damian would find him, always hiding his position from the older members of the League, and try to talk him out of whatever madness had infected him, threaten to hand him over to the other heroes for the proper procedures and eventual confinement. He never did, and every single time, Damian would watch silently as Jon walked out of the place with his hands tucked leisurely into his pockets.

Damian stops a few feet away from his lover, doesn't move a muscle, posture already heavy with resignation as Jon walks the rest of the way. His eyes shine the same colour as his hands.

Jon curls his fingers like deadly talons, running them gently over Damian’s cheekbones and leaving bloody fingerprints. The older boy is still, unmoving. Even so, there’s a definite undertone of ready trust in his body language, the way he doesn’t make a move when Jon runs sharp nails dangerously close to the white lens over his right eye.

“Damian,” Jon says, oh so gently and Damian thinks that if he closes his eyes, he could pretend they were back home, back before all of this started, when Damian always smiled and Jon’s eyes were still blue. Suddenly, his silver tongue seems to have turned to sandpaper in his mouth. “—its good to see you.” 

( _the first time they kissed they were twelve and fourteen, after another successful mission and high on adrenaline, and when Jon presses a kiss to his cheek, it seems only natural to turn his head slightly and fit their lips together._ )

Jon hover a hand over his domino mask. “I think we can do away with this, yeah?” Damian immediately shoots out a hand to grip Jon’s wrist and Jon pouts at him, deceptively innocent. Inwardly, Damian curses himself. 

“C’mon, Dames,” Jon whines and Damian hates the way his heart stutters at the childhood nickname. “I’ve missed your eyes,” and Damian has to remind to himself not Jon, not Jon, _not Jon_ —

The kryptonian peels away the mask and Damian doesn’t do a thing to stop him.

For the first time in months, Damian meets Jon’s eyes, nothing in the way between them but thick air tense with words he doesn’t dare to say.

The warehouse is quiet with the sound of the dead and dying, and Jon breathes out a small ‘ _oh_ ’, eyes never leaving Damian’s. He reaches out with a bloodied hand to trace over Damian’s lashes with a reverence that makes Damian feel like he’s going to be sick, and he lets his eyes slide closed. It feels like Jon’s glowing ember eyes have seared themselves into his eyeballs, and Damian thinks that he’d be alright if he never saw that shade of cardinal red ever again. 

“I haven’t seen your eyes in so long,” he hears Jon whisper, and then another brush of a thumb over his eyelids. Damian swallows heavily. “I remember I used to think they looked like the colour of Lazarus pits.”

Damian chokes as a tear involuntarily slips down his cheek, and Jon doesn’t resist this time when he snatches back the domino and sets it back over his eyes like a second skin. And he supposed it was, in a way. He steps back and squares his shoulders, meeting Jon’s curious eyes and feeling a rush of satisfaction when an explosion rocks the warehouse and Jon spins to face the direction it came from. 

He sees Jon’s hands curl into fists when the Man of Steel shouts the name of his son desperately. 

“The entire League is here,” Robin says shortly and his voice tremors slightly when Jon turns, cocking his head at him. “You are outnumbered, Jonathan.”

Jon laughs and raises a hand to trace a finger over the contours of Damian’s mask, soft smile never failing.

“Oh, pretty bird,” he croons, eyes flaring a horrible, horrible red— “I underestimated you.”

“A mistake.” Damian says, and is somewhat gratified to find that his voice doesn’t waver as much this time. Jon grins, turns back towards the approaching fight, and blasts straight through the wall of the warehouse. Damian doesn’t move a step, trembling hands drawing his katana from its sheath on his back. Just a formality. He stands and watches as the love of his life takes on seven of the world’s most powerful superheroes, with no plan and no backup besides the insanity in his eyes.

Jon is smart, smarter than his father, and Superman crashes to the ground, choking on kryptonite-filled lungs, when he makes the mistake of getting to close to his son. Damian lets his hand drift over the now empty pocket in his utility belt and wonders when he stopped noticing Jon slipping his hands into his possessions. 

( _“No, no, not like that,” Damian says, levity obvious his his mock-frustrated voice. He demonstrates pickpocketing Jon’s wallet from him, tucking it into his own jeans. “Keep your grip soft when you pull it out, or else it trembles.” Jon huffs. “I’m never going to be as good as you,” he whines and Damian snorts. “No, no you won’t.” He teases._ )

The Flash’s calf is encased in ice and frozen to the ground in the middle of running and his leg twists and _snaps_ and he screams, crumpling to the ground. There’s bone poking through his uniform and red growing on the ground. He’s off his game, Damian thinks, when fighting a child he knows. He’ll have to approach his father about that. Martian Manhunter bursts into flames and Diana snarls, throwing a vicious punch that Jon swerves out of the way of. Green Lantern throws up a solid wall of will followed by glowing fighter jets, yelling for Superboy to desist. Jon spins, sunrise smile on his face. “Uncle Hal!” 

The Lantern falters, emerald constructs flickering, and they shatter when Jon flies through them to slam into the hero. Hal flies into a wall, lands with a crack, and Damian doesn’t have to look to know his legs are broken. It’s almost comical how fast the fight finishes—seven Justice Leaguers against a fourteen-year-old boy.

Batman’s kryptonite capsules are waved away when he attacks from the shadows, the gas doing no damage, and the vigilante himself doubles over from a cruel blow to the abdomen that he doesn’t even see coming. Jon’s going easy on him, Damian knows. He understands how much Damian’s father means to him. This knowledge is the only thing that keeps him from being sick to his stomach. Wonder Woman shouts in fury, spinning around looking for the small boy that had taken down an entire team of seasoned heroes. 

Damian doesn’t turn to look when Jon sets down lightly behind him. He closes his eyes, traitorous mind savouring the moment as Jon kisses his cheek chastely.

( _Late nights on the roof of the manor stargazing, Damian’s buried in Jon’s hair, waking up with their legs tangled and Jason standing over him snapping photographs “for your wedding, demon brat,” he said when Damian snapped at him and threatened to castrate him. “Gotta treasure these young memories, right?” Later, Damian and Jon sneak photos of Jason and Roy making out in Father’s study as blackmail. Jason handed over the pictures in defeat, and they’re sitting safely in a box under Damian’s bed._ )

“Sure you’re not coming?” Jon asks softly, fingers brushing over Damian’s wrist. And for a moment, the older boy is tempted, tempted to follow his lover into the skies away from his loneliness, his problems. It would be so easy, he knows. But then he sees his father in his mind’s eye, his brothers waiting anxiously at home for any news concerning him, and he shakes his head with some regret.

“I can’t.” Jon nods in understanding and Damian turns, allowing himself this thing, this _one thing_ , and presses his lips to Jon’s. They stay like that for a moment, before Damian pulls away. He slips his hands from Jon’s. “Get out of here,” he says and Jon leaps into the sky without hesitation, red cape billowing behind him like a carpet.

Jon looks back one last time, sees Damian staring up at him with streaks of blood on his face from soft caresses, surrounded by debris and civilian bodies with his katana dangling from his fingers, and he smiles, dark and bright and dangerous, before he disappears into the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and feedback always appreciated!! if you wanna check me out, or just come over to yell about damijon or anything else, you're always free to come over and visit me at my tumblr @eyes-to-the-clouds to just pop into my messages!


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